An Old Beginning
by KikiCeili
Summary: Susan can't sleep.


**Hello there! It's a pleasure to be read by you. I wrote this a very,** _ **very**_ **long time ago, ran across it recently, and simply couldn't leave it sitting around in a dusty old file. Criticisms are very welcome (I've been ripping it apart at the seams myself! The cringe is so real). However, this piece was dear to my thirteen-year-old heart when I wrote it, so I do hope it's amusing, if nothing else. Have fun! ^_^**

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Damp hair curled around Susan's forehead, and clung to her neck in swirling patterns. Her body radiating heat kept trapped under heavy covers. Although it was considerably uncomfortable, she dared not move lest icy air swoop over her arms and freeze the sweat dripping there. Lucy did not appear to have the same problem. Comfortably snug in blankets that would have been marvelously plush, if not for their harsh ironing, her sister was sound asleep. The snow outside fell thick. Intricate snowflakes formed patterns on the large window that Susan faced, causing her mind to trace memories in the cold glass.

"Do you think it was heaven?" Susan whispered to herself. The intricately carved canopy overhead did not offer an answer, but croaked with the weight of the household.

"How is it that their world is so marvelous, singing of Aslan's beauty and power, and yet here, where he is needed most, there is nothing? The very trees seemed to glow with hope. They know they are in a wondrous place. So why not here?"

Turning in the tangled blankets, feeling chill bumps snake down her shoulders, Susan stared up at the heavy canopy.

"I want to go back, Lucy. I want to go back."

Her bedfellow's breathing pattern shifted slightly, and feet of a smaller size rustled in the cold sheets; the hot bottle being long bereft of any use. Susan quickly soaked up tiny, near-crystalized tears on her cheeks with the edge of the topmost blanket, and looked in her sister's direction through the darkness. As she laid on her left shoulder, facing her sister's silhouette, Susan felt the two compromising temperatures of ice and heat waft together, as if they were never at odds, and already her breath was quieted.

Though comforted, Susan suddenly felt foolish. In a quiet tone she murmured, "I'm sorry to wake you. I shouldn't talk to myself aloud."

A young voice, full of dry mirth, and hungover with a sleepy croak sounded in the room, "You know that means you're crazy."

Susan smiled to herself, and released a sigh. "Go back to sleep."

Instead of rolling back over, Lucy moved closer to her older sister, and snuggled against her. This time, the same voice sounded, but with a softer, deeper deliverance. "I want to go back, too."

It always took Susan by surprise when Lucy, or any of her siblings suddenly acted like the young adults they once were in Narnia. Once back in their birth world, Susan had no problem pretending they were all still normal children in a desperate attempt to suppress persisting memories. The others didn't try to push back those recollections. Their old life simply melted back into their minds and mannerisms. The memories of Narnia were still there. All the lessons they had learned, the lifestyles they'd lived, and the creatures they had seen were packed carefully inside in their youthful bodies. As a result of this, the children, even Susan, were occasionally overtaken by powerful memories, and for a heartbeat, became once more the Kings and Queens of Old. This was one of those fleeting moments for Lucy.

Distracted by her musings, Susan was not prepared to come crashing back down to earth when she heard her sister breathe the words, "Let's go outside."

The proposition was delivered with a quiet, suppressed excitement, yet there was a knowing, warm look within her sister's eyes that superseded all thoughts of flightiness. That still, however; did not stop Susan from bursting out, "What!" Intended to stop Lucy in her tracks, the exclamation came out with lenient disciplinary intonations, and was plainly more interested than stern. Lucy was not disturbed.

"You know you want to!" Answered a pleading voice; all trace of maturity vanished.

Susan fought the darkness, and stared intensely at her sister. To her silent relief, a smile was creeping over Lucy's face. The little sprite knew she'd already won, so there wouldn't be any need for a fumbled reprimand. Susan did dislike being a weak disciplinarian. Simultaneously, white covers were thrown at the edge of the giant bed, and the girls went to put on their warmest clothes, which were waiting in the great dresser-drawer.

"Lu," Susan whispered, hastily going back to throw the covers back over the wrinkled sheets, "Are you sure you're not too tired?" Her voice adopted a concerned, motherly tone. She became a little upset she hadn't stopped this venture at the beginning.

Lucy stopped struggling with her woolen sock, and looked up. There was a pause. The snow could be heard falling. "I think this is important." Her eyes gleamed, and the old stuffed chair shifted. She bent back over her work, and Susan's worry was stilled. She reached over to help with the sock.

Once finished, the two tiptoed across the room. Susan grabbed the doorknob, swung the door aside, and both stepped out into the hallway.

Plush carpets were kneaded by soft feet, as the sisters quietly tread the hallways. No thoughts for their brothers were spared, as they swiftly passed by their rooms. The moon cast its light through the tall stairwell window, and sent a pale glow slanting over the dark red wallpaper. Step by step the sisters fled; faster and faster, hand in hand, until all the flights were mastered. Grabbing hold of the prominent knob at the end of the banister, they made a sharp turn towards the kitchen. "Careful, don't slip." Susan murmured, as they slid over newly waxed hard wood floors, and onto the stained tile. The only response was a sharp, "Ow!" as the younger hit her elbow on an ill-placed corner.

The rushing sound in Susan's ears quieted as they came upon the back door. Lucy swung her new green coat over her shoulders as Susan grabbed two pairs of black snow boots. A general rustling of material was heard by the pots and pans, until the siblings were prepared to go. "Are you ready?" Susan asked, giving a smile that betrayed nostalgia, yet her eyes were filled to the brim with eagerness.

"Yes." Lucy grinned, and so Susan unhooked the old key hanging by the door, and opened it.


End file.
